Huckleberry Harvest (The Matchmakers of Huckleberry Hill Book 5)
Page 2
The ashes from the cookstove floated into the pail, and Dawdi flipped the lid shut. “That’s the last time I’m ever going to clean out that old stove. The new one comes today.”
They’d eaten cold cereal that morning so the cookstove would be cool enough for the salvage men to haul away. Bran flakes weren’t Mandy’s favorite, but after something runny and gooey yesterday called Eggs Benedict, Mandy would have cheerfully eaten pine needles and twigs for the rest of her life.
“We’ve had this woodstove for forty years,” Mammi said, taking a rag and wiping the top of it.
“Sixty-four,” Dawdi said. “My dat gave it to us on our wedding day.”
Mammi nodded and looked at Mandy. “Your dawdi is so eager for a newfangled stove. I hope I’ll be able to get the bread just right in a gas stove.”
Mandy smiled sympathetically at her mammi. Poor Mammi had never gotten the bread just right in the old stove. But it was okay. Everybody ate Mammi’s cooking, no matter how bad it tasted. It gave Mammi so much pleasure to feed her family. A little dinner-table discomfort was secondary to Mammi’s feelings.
Dawdi put his arm around Mammi. “You’re the best cook in the world, Annie Banannie. A new gas stove won’t slow you down.”
“Of course not,” Mammi said. “I can learn. My doctor says your brain gets old if you stop learning.”
“When are they coming with the new stove?” Mandy asked. Lord willing, she’d get bran flakes two days in a row.
Dawdi glanced at the bird clock on the wall. “Should be here within the hour.” He chuckled as at that minute, someone knocked on the door. “They’re early.”
Mandy was closest to the door. The moment she opened it, she wished she hadn’t. Noah Mischler stood on Mammi’s porch holding a large metal box that looked as if it weighed fifty pounds. That boy was as sturdy as a tree and as handsome as a sunset.
And she loathed him.
Noah nodded at Mandy, his eyes two chips of brown ice and his face devoid of expression.
She was stunned, simply stunned, to see Noah Mischler on Mammi’s doorstep only a day after she’d given him a tongue-lashing and he’d ordered her off his porch. What was he doing here?
“I came to help with the stove,” he said, not acting surprised or annoyed to see her. Of course he wasn’t surprised. She had told him yesterday that she was staying with her grandparents. And even though his face betrayed no emotion, he was certainly annoyed with her. She’d called him to repentance. What boy would want to be in the same room with a girl who wasn’t taken in by his good looks and rock-hard arms?
“Noah,” Dawdi said, grasping Noah’s hand and pulling him into the house. It seemed to Mandy that he came reluctantly. “If there’s one thing I like, it’s a man who’s prompt.”
Mammi’s little white poodle, Sparky, waddled into the great room and nudged the leg of Noah’s trousers with her wet nose as if she and Noah were friends or something. As if Noah deserved a friendly greeting. He bent over and casually scratched Sparky’s curly head. “I thought I’d decide where to drill the hole before the stove gets here.”
Mandy moved out of the way. She wanted to run for the comfort of her room, but opted to pretend that something at the sink needed her full attention. Only after she got there did she realize that such a move put her much closer to where Noah would actually be working. Oh sis yuscht!
Dawdi’s eyes twinkled, and he thumbed his suspenders. “Noah, this is my granddaughter Mandy from Charm, Ohio.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mandy said, which was probably the biggest lie she’d ever told.
Noah merely nodded, which seemed to be all the response Dawdi expected. “She’s not going to be in town long,” Dawdi added.
Mandy could almost hear Noah giving thanks inside his head.
“You’re here, and the stove isn’t,” Dawdi said, motioning to the table. “Sit. Mandy made huckleberry pie. Have a piece while you wait.”
“No, denki,” Noah said, glancing at Mandy and quickly looking away. “I’m not hungry.” He probably suspected poison.
“Stuff and nonsense,” Mammi said, pushing a chair in his direction. “A boy your age is always hungry yet. And you only get fresh huckleberry pie once a year.”
Looking about as stiff as an icicle, Noah hung his hat on the hook, set his giant box near the door, and sat at the table.
“We had our huckleberry picking frolic last week,” Mammi said. “Most of the berries got made into jam. Mandy was kind enough to make a pie with the last of them. She’s a very gute cook.”
Mandy really, really didn’t welcome the warmth that traveled up her neck and no doubt tinged her cheeks bright red. She couldn’t have cared less if Noah liked her pie. Why should prickly Noah Mischler have the privilege of eating her pie anyway? He didn’t deserve it.
Noah still looked as if he wanted to refuse. Did he think he was too good for Mandy’s cooking? “I don’t want to impose.”
“No imposition at all,” Mammi insisted, not guessing how adamantly Mandy disagreed with her. “I’ll put some whipped cream on top.” Mammi’s baked goods always tasted better with several dollops of whipped cream. The Helmuth family used whipped cream like most people used salt.
When Mammi pulled the whipped cream from the fridge, Mandy realized that she was expected to slice the pie and serve a piece to Noah. Her chest tightened around the little pebble that must have been her heart. She’d be forced to walk over to the table and give him the pie with her own two hands. Would they make eye contact? Would he bite her fingers off?
Nae, he seemed the type to keep his emotions in check. She just didn’t know if she was capable of doing the same thing. She’d never been quite so uncomfortable. What would Mammi and Dawdi say if they knew what had occurred between Noah and Mandy yesterday?
Mammi would definitely be shocked that Noah had been so rude, but if her grandparents had known Noah’s true character, they would never have let him set foot in their house, and they certainly wouldn’t let him work on their new gas stove. He might get careless and set the house on fire.
She cut him a generous piece of pie, because she was a nice girl after all, and Mammi plopped a gute helping of cream on top.
Noah didn’t smile at her, but he looked less like an angry badger when she laid the pie on table. “Denki,” he mumbled resentfully.
“You’re welcome,” she mumbled, just as resentfully, while adding a twinge of disdain to her voice.
Mammi and Dawdi didn’t seem to notice, but he did. He pressed his lips into an inflexible line and picked up his fork as if it weighed a hundred pounds—not that he would have any trouble whatsoever lifting a hundred-pound fork. He raised the pie to his lips as if he thought it might bite him.
She took comfort in the fact that he was as uncomfortable as she was. Gute. It served him right. He should feel uncomfortable for the way he had treated poor Kristina.
He closed his eyes and savored his bite. Mandy could tell he enjoyed it by the slight upward curl of his lips.
“Mandy made it,” Dawdi said, in case Noah had already forgotten.
“All by herself,” Mammi added.
“It’s wonderful gute,” Noah said.
Mandy immediately felt irritated at how pleased she was by Noah’s compliment. One bit of praise, even from a boy she didn’t like, was enough to send her floating to the clouds.
She turned her back on him. “Mammi and Dawdi, do you want pie?”
Mammi waved Mandy away. “I’ll wait for the boys to get here.”
Mandy poured Noah a glass of milk and handed it to him. She turned her back on him again immediately. She wouldn’t do him the courtesy of paying him any more notice than she had to.
Once she put some distance between them, her mind caught hold of what Mammi had said. “What boys?”
Mammi’s eyes twinkled as she clapped her hands. “All handpicked.”
“The boys” sounded like a bushel of tomatoes. “What do you mean, Mammi?”
Behind her, it sounded as if Noah were quietly choking. Mandy whipped her head around to see him tapping his chest with his fist. “Sorry,” he managed to say between coughs. “Swallowed down the wrong pipe.”
Mandy did her best to ignore him altogether. He was only here to install the new stove. She didn’t have to speak to him if she didn’t want to.
Instead, she focused on her mammi and tried to make sense of what she was hearing. “You want me to have a boyfriend?”
Mammi’s grin was as wide as Shawano Lake. “I want you to have a husband, but I’m having trouble landing on just the right one yet. I’m going to let you have your pick.”
Mandy feared her face might burst into flames at the thought that disagreeable Noah Mischler was hearing this entire conversation. “Mammi, I don’t need you to find me a husband.”
“Of course you do, dear. All die youngie need help with romance. You’ll be pleased with the boys I’ve chosen. And you should feel special, because I haven’t let any of the other grandchildren pick their own spouses.”
“Do these boys know they are competing for my affections?”
“Nae,” Mammi said. “I don’t want the ones you reject to feel bad. They think they are coming to move the stove, but it’s the perfect opportunity to meet each of them face-to-face and decide which one you like the best.”
Mandy’s throat constricted even as she pasted a pleasant look on her face. Mammi’s matchmaking schemes were well known among the family. The dear woman couldn’t resist meddling with her grandchildren. But Mandy refused to be meddled with. There were plenty of boys in Charm to spark her interest, and if the rest of the boys in Bonduel were anything like Noah Mischler, she was definitely not interested.
But she wouldn’t for the world hurt Mammi’s feelings. “It’s such a lovely idea, Mammi,” she said, “but I’m only going to be here for four weeks. Hardly enough time to find a boyfriend.”
She glanced at Noah. He concentrated very intently on the last bites of his pie, avoiding eye contact like the stomach flu. She disliked him more than ever for making fun of her inside his head, because that was surely what he must be doing. A boy like him probably bullied small children and kicked puppies on a regular basis. Of course he’d be privately mocking Mandy and her grandparents.
“We hoped you’d stay for five weeks,” Mammi said. “That should give us enough time.”
“Please, Mammi. I’d rather not.”
Mammi bustled over and patted Mandy’s hand. “That’s what they all say, dear.”
Mandy looked to Dawdi for support. He merely grinned and winked at her. “Five weeks is better than four.”
Mandy blew at a strand of hair hovering over her forehead. She didn’t really mind the matchmaking. Mammi could do all the scheming she wanted. Mandy didn’t have to go along with any of it. But it certainly galled her that Noah had heard their strange conversation. What would he tell his friends? Helmuths’ granddaughter is so desperate, she needs her mammi to find boys for her to date.
Mandy frowned and shook her head. A boy like Noah Mischler probably didn’t have any friends to tell. That thought made her feel a little better.
With that grin firmly etched into his face, Dawdi took Mammi by the hand as his gaze skipped between Mandy and Noah. “Cum, Annie, there’s something in the bedroom I want you to see.”
“Can it wait, Felty dear? I want to be here when the boys arrive so I can introduce them to Mandy.”
“We won’t be gone long. Besides, the boys are going to be late yet.”
“Late?” Mammi said. “How do you know they’re going to be late?”
“Because I told them to be late,” Dawdi said, raising an eyebrow at Mandy, as if he were harboring a mysterious secret.
“Now, Felty, why in the world would you tell those boys to be late? You know we’ve only got five weeks.”
Dawdi tugged Mammi forward. “Cum see what I’ve got in the bedroom. We’ll be back soon enough.”
“Now, Felty,” she said, with a mild scold in her voice, “I’ve already seen your new toenail clippers.”
“It’s not my toenail clippers,” Dawdi said, coaxing her down the hall.
Mandy thought she might be ill when she realized that Dawdi and Mammi had left her all alone in the kitchen with Noah Mischler, who had no reason to behave himself now that her grandparents were gone.
In desperation, she grabbed a rag, turned her back on him, and started wiping down the front of the fridge. Anything to appear too busy for idle conversation.
She heard him slide his chair out from the table and come toward her. Oh sis yuscht! Was he going to yell at her to mind her own business or tell her to get her little hinnerdale out of his way?
“Denki for the pie,” he said.
Holding her breath, she turned her head and nodded slightly. That was all the acknowledgment she would stoop to give him.
She watched out of the corner of her eye as he turned on the water and rinsed off his plate. To her surprise, he found the dish soap under the sink, washed his dishes, dried them, and put them back in the cupboards where they belonged.
Had he done that to try to impress her?
Of course not. He despised her as much as she despised him. The cleaning up obviously came as naturally to him as walking. Whoever his mother was, she had trained him well.
She turned her attention back to the fridge. She refused to be amazed by anything Noah Mischler did or did not do. He was a low-down snake who’d broken Kristina’s heart and then had the nerve to scoff at Mandy about it. His washing three measly dishes didn’t mean much piled on top of his multitude of sins.
The tension between them expanded like a balloon until Mandy felt as if she were being squished into a corner by the silence. She glanced at him as he rummaged through that giant toolbox of his. Sparky the dog sat on her haunches a few inches from the toolbox and studied Noah with her black eyes as if he were the most fascinating thing in the world. Noah reached out and cupped Sparky’s face in his big hand before turning his attention back to his tools.
He had been holding his temper well and didn’t seem inclined to scowl at her. He had complimented her on the pie and been nice to the dog. Maybe he wasn’t completely without feelings. Maybe he could still be influenced in Kristina’s direction. “If you think my pie was good, you should try Kristina’s soft pretzels. You’ve never tasted anything better.”
He looked at her as if she’d just said something slightly rude. “Do you really think I want to talk about Kristina Beachy?”
She clamped her mouth shut faster than Mammi could click her knitting needles together. He might have said nice things about her pie, but why in a million years had she ever believed he might be a partially nice person?
Fine.
She would remain silent. Let him smell her disdain from halfway across the room like an Englischer’s cheap perfume.
He retrieved a tape measure and a pencil from his toolbox. After surveying the wall behind the old cookstove, he measured the distance between the stove and the wall. Jotting notes and numbers directly onto the wall, he made a measure of where the stovepipe went into the wall and how big the hole was.
Mandy quickly abandoned the refrigerator. It stood right next to the cookstove, and she couldn’t bear the thought of being that close to Mr. Grumpy. Instead, she found some paper plates and napkins and set them on the cupboard. If all these suitors were going to come, she’d like to be ready to serve them pie. Too bad she hadn’t known about Mammi’s plans earlier. She would have invited Kristina to the party and let her take her pick of the lot. Mandy would have relished the satisfaction of seeing Noah’s brown eyes turn green with jealousy.
Noah tried to measure the entire length of the wall behind the stove, but the fridge
got in the way, and when he tried to lengthen out his measuring tape, it snapped in the middle and sagged to the floor.
“Here,” she said, instinctively grabbing the end of the measuring tape. “Where do you want me to hold it?” She might not have liked him, but she was a very nice girl, after all.
Suspicion traveled across his face, as if he feared an ambush. Maybe he thought she’d try to bully him into a date with Kristina. Well, maybe Mandy had decided not to try to get them back together. What did it matter that Noah was handsome? Kristina could do much better.
“Denki,” he said. He didn’t make eye contact, but one corner of his mouth twitched slightly upward. It must have been as close as he ever came to a smile, considering his expression consistently looked as if he’d just come from a funeral.
He wrote down the measurements, she released the tape measure, and he let it roll back onto itself.
“Denki,” he said again, as if it were the only word that was safe to say to her.
It probably was.
She nodded once again, all the while searching for an excuse to get out of the kitchen. Maybe she didn’t need an excuse. Maybe she could just walk away.
Before she had time to put her brilliant plan into action, someone knocked on the door. She took a deep breath and tried not to hyperventilate. The first of Mammi’s boys had arrived. Even though Mandy had no intention of getting together with any of them, her heart still raced at the thought that whether they knew it or not, they had come specifically to meet her. She felt like a cow at the auction, and she’d much rather not have been the center of attention.
Noah continued to jot his numbers and notes on the wall and didn’t seem to notice that anyone had knocked. At least he didn’t smirk or glare at her. She would have died of embarrassment if he’d even glanced at her the wrong way.
She smoothed her dress before she even realized she was doing it, and opened the door. Her cousin Titus, with the ever-present toothpick in his mouth, smiled back at her.
She stretched a smile across her face. Surely Mammi had no intention of matching Mandy with her own cousin. Maybe Mammi had forgotten they were related.